


This is fine

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Episode: s02e05 Pressure Point, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fuck Or Die, Love Letters, M/M, Mental Link, Post Episode: s02e04 Horizon, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: Or five times Blake was caught up in tropey romantic shit with someone who wasn’t Avon. And one time something else happened.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Roj Blake
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	This is fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bunn1cula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunn1cula/gifts).



> This is a Non-B/A Christmas fic - except that I didn't finish it in time for either Gauda Prime Day or Christmas, and it's clearly B/A. But it _is_ a fic - you can't deny that. 
> 
> It's for bunn1cula, who wasn't around when I was doing this a few years ago.
> 
> I'm very out of practice writing these characters (though obviously I still love them all!) and very very out of practice writing like myself rather than Rainbow Rowell. Thank goodness for Vila - never change, Vila. I think I can still write you. 
> 
> I've rated it teen for actual content, but mind the tags - these things are discussed, if not actually show on screen. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  1. **Jenna**



“Well,” Avon said as nastily as he could manage, “at least now we know what makes Jenna special. I’m sure you’ve all been wondering why, unlike the rest of us, she so rarely has to leave the Liberator.”

The flight deck was busy. Unusually, only Blake and Orac were absent. (That wasn’t a good sign. It meant Blake was _with_ Orac and was asking the computer something he didn’t want everyone else to know about, but Avon thought he had enough problems already without trying to work out what it might be.) Vila and Cally were playing some sort of game in the centre of the room while Gan monitored the radar screen, or they had been. Now they were all looking at him.

Jenna herself was at the controls. She spared Avon a bored glance, but otherwise didn’t respond. He would, Avon knew, have to twist the knife deeper to get anything out of her. Fortunately, he was feeling particularly feral today – it came easily.

“Blake is willing to risk _us,_ of course,” he said. “But not her. Why?”

“Because she’s the pilot,” Cally said sensibly.

Avon shook his head. “I found _these_ in the rec room.”

He let the letters fall over the edge of the couch so that they fluttered down over the game board. Vila’s eyebrows rose as he picked one up and scanned the contents.

“What are they?” Gan asked.

“Adult rated,” Vila said, his eyebrows now as high as his hairline.

“Letters,” Avon explained, “between our beloved leader and his most beloved follower.”

He was trying not to be too disappointed and failing bitterly.

Avon had long ago accepted that he was going to die as part of the Liberator crew, and soon if Blake had anything to do with it. And he'd accepted that he was in love with Blake and that life without him would be meaningless.

That meant he wasn't going to leave, whatever happened (they'd seen _that_ at Horizon), but it still hurt to discover Blake was interested in someone else. There had been plenty of occasions where Avon had felt certain Blake had feelings for _him,_ in fact, but the proof that he'd be wrong was on the papers in Vila's hands. 

Gan was frowning. “Love letters?”

Avon smiled thinly. “Not exactly.”

“Jenna, thinking of your magnificent body gives me an erection,” Vila read. “And believe me, I know what to do with it – Well, he’s not much of a poet, is he?”

“I don’t think we should be listening to this,” Cally said.

“I agree,” Gan said. “Put them away, Vila.”

“Since he describes in excruciating detail a time that the two of you had sex on _this_ sofa,” Avon said, hating himself as he relived the memory of reading it, “I rather think we _do_ need to––”

“It’s a code,” Vila said suddenly. 

Avon turned on him. “ _What_?”

“Individually the letters are just bad porn,” Vila said. “But if you put them in the right order and take the first letter of each paragraph, they read––”

“––bring the Liberator into orbit on Friday, nineteen hundred hours,” Avon read over Vila’s shoulder. “Two to teleport.”

“Blake sent them a few months ago,” Jenna said as Avon turned slowly to look at her. She smiled at him thinly. “When he was imprisoned on Jintari. We’d discussed codes in advance, so it wasn’t hard for me to decipher them once I got the full set.”

Now Avon was thinking about it, he _did_ remember letters arriving for Jenna while they waited for Blake to break out of prison along with the local rebel leader. As a story it was plausible. Although since _Avon_ was the codebreaker amongst the crew, it would have made more sense for the letters to be addressed to _him,_ but doubtless Blake had his reasons. He always did.

“You mean you haven’t had sex with Blake on this sofa, then?” Avon said, just to be sure.

Jenna arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Blake chose this moment to appear, Orac in his arms. He frowned as the rest of the crew turned to look at him. “Why’re you all standing around? Is something the matter?”

“No,” Avon decided.

They were in an alien spaceship on the run from the Federation, their life expectancy roughly the same as the length of time it took Blake to decide _which_ highly defended military facility they’d attack next. But at least Blake wasn’t interested in Jenna.

 _Probably_ not interested anyway – that was something.

Blake looked at him questioningly as Avon strode past him, off the flight deck. There was an invitation there, perhaps; to pull Blake aside and tell him what reading the letters felt like. To ask him to be more considerate in the future.

But things were complicated enough. No need to make his life worse than it already was by giving Blake the opportunity to reject him.

There was no need to tell Blake anything – Blake probably already knew.

Anyway, if he didn’t, he was at least unlikely to come up with any more plans that involved pretending to be in love with another member of his crew.

That meant everything was fine. 

  1. **Vila**



“Well done, Vila,” Gan said, clapping the thief on the back as the two of them returned to the flight deck in front of Blake. “That was really convincing.”

“Well, Blake’s an attractive man and I’m a good actor,” Vila said.

“Was the kissing really necessary, though?” Blake asked.

Avon wasn’t looking at him, but he thought Blake’s voice sounded aggrieved. But it was _Blake’s_ fault if he was. It was Blake who’d chosen Vila after all, even though the computer-controlled locks in the president’s mansion were something that Avon could have taken care of, and far more easily.

He still remembered the way Blake had said, _“No._ Not _Avon,”_ when Jenna had asked who would be accompanying Blake this time. They’d both treated it as a joke, as thought it was completely impossible that Avon could ever play the doting partner of the ambassador Blake had been posing as.

Vila had apparently been exceptional at it, according to Gan who had gone as their bodyguard. If anything, he’d been _too_ doting, keeping hold of Blake’s hand throughout negotiations and cutting his food into small portions for him.

Avon tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he listened to Vila’s lurid re-telling of the whole affair, but at one point he snapped the laser probe he was holding. It was the part where Vila complained that Blake tossed and turned all night and had even kicked him in his sleep.

“I’d show you my bruise, but it’s somewhere only my husband should see.”

They’d shared a bed, then. Avon knew he should have expected it, but it was still so unfair. Vila hadn’t even appreciated it – the sight of Blake, defences down, warm and pliant. Perhaps not even wearing a shirt. If Avon had been there, perhaps Blake would have turned towards him, hooked one of his legs over Avon’s––

“Yes, all right, that’s enough,” Blake said crisply as Vila grinned. “Did anything interesting happen up here while we were gone, Avon?” He waved one of his hands in front of Avon’s face. “Avon?”

“No, nothing noteworthy,” Avon said, refocusing.

It wasn’t a good idea to think about Blake and sex, he reminded himself.

Fortunately, it was usually possible not to. Avon prided himself on his self-control. He’d also shared a ship with Blake for more than a year now. Most of the erotic shocks (Blake chewing on his fingers, the depth to which he sometimes unzipped his shirts, the impact of Blake’s body colliding with Avon’s in turbulence) had already passed and become – if not stale – endurable.

Today was unusual. He wasn’t normally asked to think about what Blake would be like in bed. But now he had. If it happened again, he’d be ready for it. 

It would take something truly extraordinary to make him think about Blake and sex again, which meant Avon was still fine. 

  1. **Travis**



There were strange noises coming from the flight deck. Initially Avon mistook them for the sounds of a fight (Gan, presumably – the limiter had malfunctioned again, and the others were holding him back) but when he arrived breathless at the doorway, he found Gan standing peacefully at his station listening to music through a walkman.

Vila had what looked like handkerchiefs stuffed in his ears although he kept having to take them out to respond to Cally who was making adjustments to the controls. Avon scanned the rest of the room and found Blake where he’d expected him, sitting at the viewing station – his chin in his hands, watching something intently. The noises Avon had heard were coming from whatever it was.

Now he was closer, they were obviously _not_ the sounds of a fight. The kind of grunting involved was very different.

Blake clearly saw Avon’s approach in his peripheral vision and shook his head.

“Not now, Avon. Cally will explain.”

“I’m not sure––”

“ _Cally_ will explain.”

Avon stared at him for a moment longer and then spun on his heel. “Cally,” he demanded. “Why is Blake watching pornography on the flight deck?”

“Not even the good kind,” Vila said, tugging the cloth out of his ears. “ _Gay_ pornography.”

Avon twisted to look back at Blake before he was able to stop himself. (So, Blake watched gay pornography, did he? That was one question answered.) Blake didn’t look back at him, but he was now biting down on one of his fingers.

“It’s a protective measure,” Cally explained. “Orac’s still not sure how it happened, but Travis has managed to establish a mental link with Blake. He can read Blake’s thoughts.”

“So?”

“By occupying his mind with something distracting, Blake has stopped Travis gaining access to our plans, knowledge of Orac––”

“And he couldn’t occupy it with something _else_?” Avon said.

“The real question is, why did he have to occupy it here?” Vila said miserably.

“Travis is a repressed homosexual,” Blake’s voice said from the viewing area – and the bastard actually sounded triumphant about it. “I’m sure it’s making him extremely uncomfortable to share my thoughts right now.”

“You can see why,” Vila said. “It’s making me uncomfortable just to share the room with you.”

“He’ll back off soon, at which point I can use what I’ve learned from _him_ to take his ship,” Blake continued. “That’s why I need to be here on the flight deck. Ah, I think they’re about to get to the rimming––”

“Yes. I think I need to be … somewhere else,” Avon said vaguely.

So, trying not to think about Blake having sex was now impossible – Avon could live with that. In fact, if anything, he was pleased to have Blake’s interest in other men confirmed. That made his own predicament slightly less impossible and painful.

Everything was still fine, really.

Yes, as long as Blake wasn’t _actually_ having sex with anyone, Avon thought he could handle this.

  1. **Gan**



“Another miraculous escape,” Avon said as Blake and Gan rematerialized back in the Liberator’s teleport bay from the Ultra scout ship. “When you write your memoir, Blake, you must remember to include this one as a rare example of escaping _without_ setting anything on fire.

He’d been worried, there, for a minute, after Blake had radioed in with news of what was going on aboard the alien scout ship. But now both Blake and Gan had returned, Avon felt that it would be wrong not to return to caustic mockery. Blake would expect that.

But instead Blake looked more than usually put out by what had been a relatively inoffensive jibe.

“We didn’t escape,” he said darkly as he slotted his teleport bracelet back into the rack.

“They let us go,” Gan explained. “After we did what they wanted.”

“But,” Avon said. It was as if his whole brain had gone blank. “You said what they wanted––”

“—was the human bonding ceremony, yes,” Blake said. "I’m sure both Gan and I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it again.”

He gave Avon a tight smile and walked past him into the corridor.

“It wasn’t that bad really,” Gan said bracingly to Avon. “At least the aliens provided lube.”

Avon tried to look like this was perfectly neutral information about the health of his crew members, something he found informative and which gave him absolutely no pain to hear.

He followed Gan back to the flight deck (and therefore followed _Blake_ back to the flight deck) because the alternative was going back to his room and breaking as many things as possible before he wore himself out.

That meant he was in time to see Blake issue a command to Zen to destroy the ship they’d just left and watch the rather satisfying explosion on the main screen.

“Was that really necessary?” Gan asked reproachfully – and unwisely Avon thought, given Blake’s mood.

“Of _course_ it was necessary,” Blake spat. “They’re completely amoral – they gather knowledge at the expense of individual freedom. They only spared our lives because we complied with their demands. Which were, of course, completely unacceptable.”

He glared at Avon as though daring him to disagree, and there was Avon thought also some regret there. Perhaps an apology.

Avon _didn’t_ disagree. Although he was also struggling not to think about how easily it could have been _him_ who had teleported down with Blake, rather than Gan. It almost had been – if Avon hadn’t refused to leave his work on the mainframe. (Not that Avon would have wanted to have sex with Blake because aliens were going to kill them if they didn’t. And it wasn’t as if Blake had been _happy_ about what had happened.)

He was also trying not to think about what kind of sex Blake had had that would have required lube. And trying not to get upset about the fact he had clearly had it with Gan.

It mattered, though, that Blake hadn’t wanted it. It had been meaningless, more than meaningless – Blake had seen it as an imposition.

Which meant Avon could handle it. It was fine.

After all, it wasn’t as if Blake was in _love_ with anyone.

  1. **Cally**



“There isn’t much time,” Cally said.

Her voice was weak, it was clear she was fading, but somehow she was also strong because she was filled with complete conviction, the way Blake’s always had been.

“When we die, my people can send our consciousness back in time for a short while to speak to those we love best.” She looked around at the four of them gathered on the flight deck – Avon, Jenna, Vila and Gan. “Could someone bring Blake here?”

“I’ll go,” Vila said and scampered off into the corridors.

“You’re dying?” Jenna said – her voice cracking – and Cally nodded.

“When?” Avon said – it was all he could think to ask. He didn’t like many people, but he liked Cally. The thought of losing her was unbearable.

She smiled kindly at him. “If you want to know the future, you can always ask Orac.”

It was something they’d never done after that first time – Cally knew that.

“I think we’re better not knowing,” Gan agreed, and Cally turned her kind, sad smile on him for a moment.

“ _Cally_.”

Everyone turned towards the doorway at the sound of Blake’s voice. He was there, just in front of Vila who must have explained everything because Blake didn’t pause or ask what was going on, just leapt up the steps to where Cally was standing next to her position.

“You wanted to see me,” Blake said as Cally put her hands on his face.

“To see all of you,” Cally said, but Avon thought there was something special in the way she looked at Blake – the way you’d look at anyone who’d saved your life when you thought there was nothing left to live for. Cally looked at Blake as though he’d given her a reason to live, which he had.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you,” she said – to Blake before twisting her head so she could take in the rest of them – “all. And Blake––”

“I love you too, Cally,” Blake said – and he meant it, Avon could tell. He could always tell when Blake was lying (almost always, anyway) and there was nothing but sincerity in Blake’s tone now. 

She smiled again. “I want you to know – you _were_ right.”

Then she crumpled – and they all heard her screaming his name in their heads from somewhere in the future. And they all knew that somewhere (years, months or days away) Cally was dead and that her last thought had been of Blake, who’d been in love with her all along.

He caught her easily as she fell, carried her over to the sofa and laid her down gently.

“I think I need to be alone,” he said as he straightened. His eyes were bright with tears as he walked off the flight deck.

“I think I need to kill myself,” Avon said.

Things were definitely _not_ fine.

  1. **Avon**



It was night – or what passed for it in a spaceship far from any civilised (or uncivilised) world. No one had felt much like taking the graveyard shift after what had happened with Cally, not even Blake. Avon had volunteered because he knew he wasn’t going to sleep even if he went back to his cabin, so why not? It didn’t make any difference to him.

Now he was sitting alone in the dark watching the patterns of light on Zen’s screen and trying not to think about Cally.

Or Blake.

Did it matter? That Blake was in love with someone else? It had always been a possibility and Avon had always known that Blake might never return his feelings, and yet he’d stayed anyway. Hadn’t Horizon proved that?

So it didn’t matter. He would stay – but still, it was hard not to feel as though his universe had cracked down the centre. They’d lost Cally (or they _would_ lose Cally) and he’d lost Blake. It was over before it had begun. Avon had always known they would lose, that _he_ would lose, but never before had it felt so inevitable.

There was no one around, no one to hear, so he allowed himself one harsh, shaking breath before he pressed the ball of his hands into his eyes.

The sound seemed to echo on the flight deck, before someone spoke.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Blake – of course. Entering from the corridor at the top of the stairs so that he was silhouetted against the light.

It would be easy to send him away – either with a flat rejection, or with a caustic remark that would make Blake’s temper flare.

“No, I don’t mind,” Avon said – which was about as far from the truth as either of the other responses would have been, but was enough to make Blake cross the distance from the doorway and sit down next to him.

They sat in the dark together for a while, Avon listening to the sound of Blake breathing.

“I’m sorry about Cally,” he said eventually.

“So am I,” Blake said. “She’s fine, though, for now. Jenna’s with her.” 

_I’m in love with you, too_ , Avon thought.

He didn’t say it, but he felt the words hovering on his tongue. It would be so easy to utter them, but he had nothing more to gain than he ever had. Less, perhaps – since he knew, now, where Blake’s affections really tended.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened today,” Blake said in the silence Avon was still leaving.

“I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

“It made me realise that I’ve been a coward.”

Avon rolled his eyes – that was Blake all over. Always fixated on the wrong problems. (Blake was definitely _not_ a coward.)

“That doesn’t seem––” he began, breaking off as Blake closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Avon’s.

For a moment, Avon was too surprised to respond (Blake was kissing him – in the dark – only a few hours after confessing his love for someone else) and then he decided, to hell with it and kissed Blake back, clutching at his hair to keep him close.

“I’ve wanted to do this from the beginning,” Blake told him, smiling against Avon’s skin. “I _should_ have done.”

Avon wanted nothing more than to melt into him, but the logical part of his brain was irritatingly persistent.

“Really,” Avon heard himself say. “What about Cally?”

“What _about_ Cally?”

“You said you loved her,” Avon reminded him.

“Yes,” Blake said. He started laughing. “ _Avon_ ,” he said reproving as Avon's expression darkened. “Of _course_ , I love Cally. And Jenna and Vila and Gan – they’re my crew. I’m not _in_ love with any of them. I feel rather differently about you.”

Avon frowned at him.

“Why do you think I refused to allow you to pretend to be my partner?” Blake asked. “It would have been far too easy to pretend. Not to mention distracting. After what happened today, though, I couldn’t remember why I thought it was important not to tell you how I felt.”

“You mean,” Avon said, “you realised you were going to die soon. And might as well have sex with someone willing to have sex with you before that happened.”

Blake rolled his eyes. “Actually, I realised I was still alive.”

“For _now_ , anyway,” Avon said, because he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yes, Avon – for now,” Blake said irritably. “Nobody’s immortal.”

It was a facetious argument and Blake must know it was. Clearly, the lives of everyone aboard the Liberator were directly imperilled by _his_ actions. True, none of them were immortal, but they were all likely to live shorter lives because they’d chosen to follow Blake. Cally hadn’t said how she’d died, and Avon hadn’t asked Orac, but he was willing to bet she hadn’t died in her _sleep_. 

“This plan you’ve been working on with Orac––” Avon began.

It was to do with Earth, he was sure of it. They’d entered the Terran solar system a few days ago on what was (Blake said) a reconnaissance mission. Blake was obsessed with Earth, though. The odds of him being able to walk away once it was in his sights were slim to none. That meant it would be an attack – and an attack against Earth would set them against the Federation’s strongest defences. 

But Blake was also right – they weren’t dead _yet_.

“––I assume you’ll tell the rest of us what it is, tomorrow?” Avon finished.

Blake blinked in surprise, and then recovered. “I _was_ going to."

They weren't dead yet and Blake was at least willing to share whatever he was thinking - Avon would deal with whatever it was tomorrow, and try and limit the damage it might cause. In the meantime, Blake was here and he wasn't interested in Jenna, or in bed with Vila or Gan, or in love with Cally. He'd wanted to kiss Avon from the beginning.

“All right,” Avon said, smiling as he leant back towards Blake. "I suppose that's fine, then. For now." 

**Author's Note:**

> bunn1cula's prompt was: "Blake + Servalan + Bed Sharing; Blake + Jenna + Love Letter Lunacy; Blake + Travis + Mental Link; Blake + Deva + Accidental Crossover AU (i.e. where Deva is somehow replaced by Silver from Sapphire & Steel); Blake + Cally + Time/Universe Traveling Future Lover; Blake + Vila + Fake Relationship; Blake + Gan + Death By Sex"
> 
> I'm sad not to have done the Servalan bed sharing, but I didn't want to stack up other fake relationship scenarios. I also chose to interpret 'Death by Sex' as 'Fuck or Die', even though we clearly discussed how they were different. 
> 
> x_los said to me ‘so funny if Blake and Gan get trapped in a fuck or die scenario and Avon is just so mad when they come back’. My role in the process was merely to think - "what if that happened... five times?" and then match the trope to the vaguely plausible scenario. You'll note this is not explicitly an AU - even though Avon has no memory of the Ultra by the time we hit 'Ultraworld'. My theory is that the aliens never gave their name and because Blake exploded the scout ship, it never reported back to the Ultra. 
> 
> The fic was going to be lulzy but the only idea I had for Cally was about death. So now it's a mix of lulzy and sad, which is a bit tonally awkward perhaps but very B7.


End file.
